The Righteous Brothers began their song called Unchained Melody and, as the first words of the lyrics squeaked out of Fusner’s tiny radio speaker, life came to a stop for me. I just sat there and listened. It was a song about unrequited love, but I didn’t consciously think about it in terms of myself and my wife. To me, it was about life. My life right where I was. I needed love, any love, any demonstration of love and there was no love at all at the bottom of the loveless A Shau Valley, the bitter crease where the Bong Song ran. The heartless soulless valley where I hugged myself deeply into the mud and the sand of its abandoned flats.

Was the Gunny coming? I’d handed back the microphone to Fusner without knowing. My threat of dropping three thousand was an on-air threat. I’d been on the combat net not the artillery net. Even if Ripcord was listening in, which they probably were, they wouldn’t fire for an order given over the combat net unless there was some particular justifiable need. The Gunny knew that too. I’d never threatened, or even commanded the Gunny before, and I was unsure whether I’d done the right thing, or even a survivable thing. Saving Kilo, if that’s what we did, was as much about saving my scout team and myself as it was them. I lay face down. The Gunny would know all that, of course.